


Different Stars

by jellyfishline



Category: Free!
Genre: Australia, Canon Compliant, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, season 2 episode 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 22:47:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4642863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellyfishline/pseuds/jellyfishline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the problem with Rin. He could be dreaming peacefully of pleasant days, or he could be caught deeply in a nightmare, and Haru would never know.<br/>(in which Haru can't sleep, but Rin can.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Different Stars

They lie together in the silence between speaking and sleeping. The lights are out, the sun is down, and night breathes softly in the breeze.

Haru turns in the bed, unaccountably restless.

Rin is asleep. Has been, it seems, for quite a while. His breath is soft, stirring the hairs against his cheek. His eyelids flutter like curtains. Mostly, Haru knows he is asleep because he rolled over a few minutes ago, and Haru doesn't think Rin would turn to face him after their conversation if he were awake.

The words still ring in Haru's ears. Perhaps that's why he can't sleep—the noise inside his head is deafening. He thinks of getting up; to run or to swim, as he would at home. But he won't. He has to stay in earshot of Rin. In such a strange place, he's not going to run away without someone beside him who can speak the language and read the signs.

He could wake Rin up, he supposes.

At that moment, the man in question lets out a soft snore. Protesting even from his dreams, no doubt. Haru can just picture it—how Rin would grumble if he woke him now, would fight and scowl and call him an idiot. Haru's seen his tired, unfocused anger—too soft to even be called anger, more of a gentle irritation—too many times to count.

No, Haru would rather see this instead.

He's never seen Rin sleep before. Not like this. The distance between them isn't the murky shadow of a bedroom or half of a futon, but scant centimeters, their pillows almost overlapping, faces almost touching.

It's too close. Really, it's too close, but Haru can't seem to shut his eyes the way he should.

From this distance, the darkness is no barrier to his sight. He can see all the familiar landmarks of Rin—the crooks of his brow, the valleys of his cheeks—the jut of his chin, the way his hand curls limply on his pillow, fingers folded as if to beckon. _I'm here,_ Haru thinks. _I'm here in Australia in a hotel with you. Where else do you want me to go?_

Rin only mumbles. He does that often. Not even words, just little creaks and squeaks of breath, up-down lilts of melody in his snores.

Haru pushes in just a little closer. Perhaps if he gets close enough, the words will unravel and the meaning will fall loose—an insect freed from its cocoon. Perhaps, if he tries hard enough, he will understand the spaces between Rin's words.

_How can you say so little when you talk so much?_ Haru wonders. Haru hated that about him when they were children. He hates it now, still, but for different reasons. Once, he hated Rin's noise, his posturing, his boistrous, boyish brilliance. He hated his grabbing fingers and his snapping goggles and his inability to read the signs that Haru wrote in boldest script: _I hate you. Stay away._

Haru wasn't used to being chased. 

He's used to it now. Now, he's not sure he can ever be what he was—alone and silent, calm in the water. Now he has to be chased, or the water doesn't move for him the way it should. It's frustrating. Terrifying.

Rin shifts slightly. They're almost nose-to-nose. Haru can barely see more than the lines of his eyelid, waves of tension in his forehead.

This is the problem with Rin. He could be dreaming peacefully of pleasant days, or he could be caught deeply in a nightmare, and Haru would never know. He's not like Makoto. Haru doesn't know every part and piece of him as familiar and stable as the crators of the moon. He could make starcharts out of Makoto's moods.

Or he thought he could. Recent events have put that in doubt, too.

(There are different stars in Australia.)

Rin's mouth falls open slightly. It's nothing in particular, just the result of a change in position, but Haru unaccountably thinks of _beauty_. There is beauty here, in the lines of someone so used to running, fighting, pursuing, now sleeping. Sleeping soundly, deeply, far removed from the struggles he seeks when he swims.

Ever since they landed, Rin has been unusually beautiful. Relaxed. Carrying confidence that comes from his eyes, not the endless stream of boasts his mouth upholds. Maybe it's something in the water.

_Different stars,_ Haru thinks.

Rin's lips are beautiful. Haru thinks of them forming the words. _“I've always admired you.”_

_No,_ Haru thinks. _No, that's not it._ But Rin said it, and Rin wouldn't lie. Not like this.

There are too many words; words not being said, words being repeated in Haru's head. His ears are tuned between channels—he can't make any sense of the static. Not tonight.

He wants to swim.

Haru untangles his arm from the sheets and, gently, places his hand on Rin's palm. Rin shifts—sniffs—and relaxes. His fingers curl around Haru's, tight with sleep. Haru weaves his way in until their hands are clasped. If he shuts his eyes, he can imagine that the pulse against his palm is the beat of the ocean, and Rin's breaths are waves shushing at the shoreline. He thinks of the ocean—thinks of Rin as he was, a lost little boy swallowed up by the surf on some strange foreign shore.

“Rin,” he says. “Swim for me.”

But Rin doesn't need the reminder. He squeezes Haru's hand.

“Don't worry,” he says. “We'll swim together.”

**Author's Note:**

> The first line of this fic came into my head the other day and it wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it down. I'm not sure how good the end result is, but, well, I figure the more Australia fic in this fandom the better.
> 
> Edit: I've also just noticed that--completely by accident!--this fic shares a title with a really lovely song about sleeplessness and longing by a band called Trespassers William. I suggest you check it out. It's a nice song, thematic relevance aside.


End file.
